Eight AM
by mustlovecat
Summary: Sam and Andy and their first morning after. Continuation of Ten PM.


**A/N **Thank you to everyone who reviewed Ten PM. Your support is very much appreciated. At one point, I had planned on that one being the last of the series, but by popular demand (and insistent nagging by the plot bunnies) ... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to _Rookie Blue_, ABC or GlobalTv. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Though if I ever run into Ben Bass on the streets of Toronto... Oh, who am I kidding? I'd be too tongue-tied to get out a hello!

* * *

Sam fought against consciousness for a few minutes, until finally, he stretched and reached, his eyes flying open when his hands fell on cool sheets beside him. He furrowed his brow, his gaze moving to the clock on the bedside table: eight-oh-seven. Had he really slept seven hours straight? He could not remember the last time he had slept so well. It had probably been _years_. However, the realization was quickly pre-empted by the reason for it.

He slipped out of bed and glanced around. Not sure where his boxers had disappeared to, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair to slide on, raising his eyebrows when he heard something fall down in the kitchen and clang against the floor. He then chuckled when the noise was followed by an, "Oh, crap!"

When he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, he found Andy standing at the sink, holding her left index finger under the tap and cursing under her breath. She was wearing only an old Police College t-shirt of his, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her face clear of most of her make-up except a little lingering mascara. Sam nearly did a double-take at how stunningly beautiful she was – until his mind caught up with his body and he realized that she was injured. "What did you do?" he asked as he joined her at the sink.

"It's stupid," she sighed. "I cut myself."

Sam reached out and took her hand, pulling it from the water and glancing at the red streak down her finger. "Jeez, Andy..."

"It looks worse than it is."

He grabbed a nearby dishtowel from the counter and blotted the water from the cut to get a closer look. She was right. It was superficial, barely more than a graze. He brought her finger to his lips. "I think you'll live," he smiled.

"I was trying to make breakfast," she explained a little sheepishly, looking over to the island where some onions and peppers were in the midst of being chopped on a cutting board.

"You don't cook," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I do, too!" she shot back defensively. At the quirk of his eyebrow, she back-tracked a little. "Kind of. Well, some things. I can handle omelettes."

"You know you're a guest. You don't have to make breakfast."

She shrugged. "I just wanted to do something nice."

"Trust me, you already did. A few times, if memory serves," he smirked suggestively.

Andy blushed. And for the first time, she got a good look at him. She would have a hard time denying that she had checked him out that second day when he stripped down in front of her in the locker room. However, her mind had been on other things at the time and she really had not truly appreciated the view. The night of the blackout, she had been all over the place and the last thing she was focusing on was the plane of his chest, his well-defined abs or his biceps. _Last night_, she was more lost in the feelings than the visual. But now, standing in front of her in just his boxer briefs, she found the colour in her face deepening. "Um..."

"I never thought I'd see you at a loss for words, McNally," he could not help but tease her. "See something you like?"

"I, uh – I don't think I need to boost your ego anymore," she finally said, turning back to the half-chopped vegetables.

Sam just laughed softly. He moved up behind her and brushed the hair that had escaped her ponytail off her shoulder, gaining access to her neck. He leaned down and kissed the soft skin behind her ear. "Good morning, by the way."

She found herself melting back into him. "Morning."

"And for the record, feel free to wear my clothes whenever the hell you want. They definitely look a million times better on you." He leaned around, kissing her cheek as his hands slid down her sides and grazed the skin of her thighs beneath the hem of his shirt.

"You have to stop that," she warned him, though her tone was anything but convincing.

"Stop what?"

"Touching me. I'm going to cut myself again."

"Well, we can't have that. There are a hell of a lot of things I'd rather do on a day off than hang out in the ER." He kissed her temple, then reached around her and took the knife from her hand. "Why don't you start whisking up the eggs and I'll finish this up."

Andy didn't argue and the two worked in tandem finishing up the preparation for breakfast. They sat down together on the stools at the island to eat, a comfortable silence settling over them as they enjoyed the omelettes and drank coffee. Occasionally, one would feed the other a bite off their fork, or they would share a brief, yet hot kiss. But none of the awkwardness often present during the first morning after could be felt. In a way, both felt as if they had been together forever. Maybe it was because of how well they had known each other before becoming lovers.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Sam asked as he loaded the dishwasher while Andy washed out the frying pan in the sink.

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

He closed the dishwasher then leaned his hip against the counter, looking her over. "Well, I can think of a few things I'd like to be doing."

Andy laughed. "I bet."

He flashed his dimples. "Hey, if my girl had still been in bed when I woke up, we would've ended up eating brunch in a couple hours because we'd be in bed making love right now."

She bit her lip, and then looked away a little shyly.

Sam cocked his head, his dimpled grin disappearing. "You okay? I say something wrong?"

Her gaze returned to his. "I just – No guy's ever said 'making love' to me before."

"You've been with the wrong guys, McNally," he said pointedly, closing the distance between them and wrapping her in his arms. "Last night wasn't just sex. At least, it wasn't for me."

"Me either," she admitted softly.

He ran a hand through her hair, then leaned down and kissed her lazily.

Andy slid her hands up his chest, resting them against him for a second before sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him even closer. While she enjoyed _sex_, she had to admit that _making love_ with the man who made it no secret that he was crazy about her was even better. And she could not wait to do it again. So when he started moving them through the house back towards the bedroom, she was not about to argue. In fact, she did everything in her power to encourage him.

She was stretched out on her back afterwards, lying perpendicular to him, her head on his stomach, her eyes closed as he stroked her hair. She felt...calm. She certainly did not have to fake anything where Sam was concerned. And instead of being scared, she actually felt confident and secure. It seemed crazy now to think she had been fighting against this for so long.

"So, I'm thinking I should talk to Frank," Sam finally said, cutting into the silence.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged. "Full disclosure. If it comes out some other way – especially because of something that happens out there on the job – it could spell trouble. I can take care of myself, but I don't want you getting thrown under the bus."

"But he could decide we can't be partnered anymore," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"That won't happen."

"Sam, we have to be realistic. There might not be rules like when you were my T.O., but still..."

Sam looked down at her, seeing the genuine concern in her expression. "Sweetheart, I know Frank. He knows how well we work together. He's not gonna mess with that, not when we've given him no reason to."

"I don't know. It seems like a risk we don't have to take yet."

"You really worried about him pulling us off patrol together or do you just not want anyone to know about us?" he asked her seriously.

"I don't want us not to be partnered together," she replied honestly. "But Sam, I'm not real crazy about _us_ being the talk of the precinct, either. And if people find out...Trust me, they'll talk. Come on. Division's worse than high school. You know that."

"I'm just saying let's tell Best – our _boss_. I'm not suggesting we make some public declaration to the entire Fifteen right now. Remember I just want to look out for you, not to feed you to the gossip hounds back at the barn."

Andy furrowed her brow. "I just – I care about you. I don't want anyone thinking you're just some rebound guy, or I'm just with you because you're hot and the sex is great."

He smirked. "The sex is incredible. And you think I'm hot, huh?"

She grabbed a pillow and cuffed him with it. "You're impossible."

He sobered, looking at her earnestly. "Andy, I care about you, too. I've cared a hell of a lot more than I should for longer than I should. What I don't care about is what people say. But I know you do. So, for now, we'll keep this between us."

She shifted so she was stretched out alongside him then she leaned up and met his lips in a slow, languid kiss. "I trust your judgment. So if you think we should talk to Best..."

Sam grinned. "You realize that once we tell him...Even if it's only him – Once we say it out loud..."

"I know."

"You scared?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. I barely knew you that day in the bar with Anton Hill, but I knew you'd never let anything happen to me. And now I know you. So, no, as long as you're here, I'm not scared."

"See, everything you've been running from...You just gotta run _to_ it."

"You couldn't have told me that six months ago?"

He chuckled. "C'mon, McNally. The sex would've still been incredible, but you wouldn't have believed me then if I told you not to run back then. And who knows where we'd be now?"

She snuggled into his arms, resting her head on his chest. "Well, I like it right here."

Sam's hold tightened around her. "Finally. Something we agree on."


End file.
